To The Finish Line
by Liz Hollow
Summary: When we were little, Barry and I used to have races. But if life is a race, then this is one that Barry cannot finish first.


**To The Finish Line**

When we were little, Barry and I used to have races. We would run from one end of Twinleaf to the other, stopping at the very edge to catch our breath. Whoever made it to the finish line first won, but being second place wasn't bad, either—because the next time we ran, we would run faster and faster until second place became first.

Barry took to running everywhere he could as a means of training. I, on the other hand, took things slowly; I didn't want to wear myself out before our race. I could tell that it annoyed Barry, but that just made it even more fun. And we got used to each other's training methods after awhile. He would just give me a lengthy head-start whenever we made plans to hang out.

But the races had to stop someday. We both knew that the day would come when we went our separate ways, as all teenagers did eventually. It was custom in our region that youths leave home at the ripe age of fourteen to train Pokémon. And though Barry and I stumbled right into our journeys, it became a journey all the same.

We stopped racing, but we didn't stop running. And whoever made it to the finish line first took it all.

* * *

><p>There was an old folktale about a Jolteon and Shuckle—Jolteon would always brag about how fast he was, and he would make fun of Shuckle because of how slow he was. Shuckle, annoyed, challenged Jolteon's speed, and the two raced. But Jolteon mocked Shuckle, resting and eating while Shuckle made her way to the finish line. When the electric-type noticed that Shuckle was almost at the end, he took off. It was too late; Shuckle crossed the finish line and won the race before Jolteon even started.<p>

Barry and I were fierce competitors like Jolteon and Shuckle. We stopped at nothing to one-up the other, though I had to admit that I was the far superior battler. I let him keep running and running, and he always made it farther than me more quickly. But, in the end, time didn't matter. We both got where we wanted to go. I just took longer.

In the end, I took the crown. It didn't matter how fast Barry went—just like Jolteon. But he would win some and lose some, just like me. That was why we worked so well together. We balanced each other out, and together, we were unstoppable. Together, we could do great things. And that was exactly why we belonged together.

I loved Barry even before we set off on our journey—or maybe I felt something like love. I wasn't aware of what I felt, really. We had been friends pretty much since birth, and when my feelings switched from like to love, I wasn't sure. But there came a point when I wanted him to win—when, even though we were still competitors, I put him first.

So, when I took that crown and became Champion, the first thing I did when I got home was race Barry.

We ran and ran and ran. The distance seemed shorter now that we had been all over the region. But we kept running until neither of us could breathe anymore. And when we both collapsed in a small field, laughing and breathing so harshly that it was impossible to hear anything else. I didn't even hear Barry roll over onto his side next to me.

He slid a hand around my waist, rolling me over to face him. We bounced with the fierce movement of our lungs; his face was bright red, a thin line of sweat just above his eyebrows. I couldn't imagine I looked very pretty at the moment, but I never thought Barry more handsome. Maybe it was just seeing him again, knowing that we might have some time to just hang out now that we had returned home, that made me think so.

"I won that race," he whispered in a voice broken by his uneven breath. And as I opened my mouth to argue, though I knew quite well that he _had_ won, he kissed me.

Jolteon and Shuckle—they both won.

* * *

><p>I jumped down the stairs, skipping steps and nearly tumbling to the bottom. I didn't know how long either of us planned on remaining in Twinleaf, so Barry and I spent every day together. I was sure people expected me to do <em>something<em> great with my life now that I had defeated Cynthia. But, honestly, I preferred to be with Barry.

Something stopped me today. As I ran towards the door, ready to meet Barry at his house like I usually did in the morning (though, admittedly, he was usually running around doing something else, but I didn't mind waiting for him), I heard my mother crying in the kitchen. I held onto the doorknob, lingering for a moment before turning back.

"Mom?"

My mom wiped her eyes as I entered the kitchen, faking a smile when she looked at me. But as I stepped closer to her, she couldn't keep herself composed; she dropped her gaze, bursting out in tears once more. I hurried towards her, wrapping my arms around her. I didn't need to know what had happened to know that something horrible had occurred.

"Dawn, honey," my mom whimpered, patting my arm. I pulled away from her, grabbing one of the other kitchen chairs and sitting down beside her. "I just got off the phone with Palmer—uh, Barry's father. They're all down at the hospital in Jubilife. It seems that Barry was admitted to the hospital in the middle of the night."

My heart sunk into my stomach, and nausea quickly took over. "What does that mean?" I asked, although I knew very well what that meant; there was something very, very wrong with him. If it was the middle of the night, then it wasn't by accident that he ended up in the hospital. There was something else.

"He's sick." My mom sniffled, wiping her eyes once again. "Palmer said they don't know much about what happened to him yet, but apparently Barry woke up last night and had trouble breathing. He… well, he passed out just after he woke his mother up."

Not Barry. We just raced yesterday—I just saw him yesterday! He was completely fine… we always raced, and he was always completely fine. Not able to breathe? That didn't make any sense. It seemed like that was the most impossible of all the things that could happen… he was a runner… he had great lungs…

"Is he okay?" I demanded.

My mother's lips trembled, tears bubbling in her eyes. "Well, like I said, they don't know much about Barry's condition at the moment. But Palmer said that they would be running tests over the next couple of days, so Barry will be in the hospital for a little while." She swallowed, forcing another smile that I didn't believe. "I'm sure he'll be fine, honey."

I was wrong. That stupid folktale was wrong. Time _did_ matter. It made all the difference.

* * *

><p>Seeing Barry in the hospital made me so nervous and upset that a Blissey had to give me one of her eggs to calm me down before I went into his room. It had been more than a week, and he was still in the hospital; it was only natural that I be concerned for him. But I had to admit, that egg made me feel a whole lot better.<p>

"Barry!" I yelled, practically pouncing on him when I entered his room. He laughed, sounding like the same Barry I had always known. He didn't sound tired or out of breath; in fact, I would bet money that he wanted to climb out of that bed and do a couple of laps around the hospital. It was unusual for him to sit still for so long.

He patted my hand and smiled at me. I wanted to kiss him again—it seemed like forever since we had—but I had a feeling that the nurses told him he couldn't since they were still running tests on him. Just seeing him alive and _breathing_ was enough for me. The only other thing I could ask for were good test results.

"How are you?" he asked me, and I laughed.

"Oh, you're asking me?" I sat down on the edge of his bed and smirked. "I'm okay. I would be better if you were home, though. Have you heard anything from your doctors? When are you coming home?"

Barry frowned—another unusual sight for me. "Well, I think I get to go home tonight, actually," he said. This sounded like good news, but the frown threw me off; why would this _not_ be a good thing? "They finished up the tests this morning, so I just have to wait for the results. It might take a couple of weeks."

I raised my eyebrows. "So, they don't know what's wrong with you?"

"Not at the moment." Barry fell back against his pillows, shaking his head. "They think it has something to do with my lungs. The doctors told me that I shouldn't participate in high-intensity activities anymore—including racing. But I feel fine! Really, Dawn, I do. I don't see why they should limit what I can do."

I nodded just to make him feel better, but I knew that we should listen to the doctors. Even though he looked fine and thought he felt fine, something caused him to stop breathing. And I wasn't going to let him hurt anymore. If the doctors said no racing, then that meant no racing. But if Barry wouldn't listen to them, what could I say?

* * *

><p>The roles quickly reversed. I became Jolteon, and Barry took over Shuckle's role. It seemed that being out of the hospital didn't help Barry's condition; in fact, he looked far better <em>in<em> the hospital than he did out of it. He remained mostly bed-ridden, coughing and wheezing and breathing unevenly. He sounded just like he did after a race, and that scared me.

The test results weren't what anyone wanted or expected. Not only were Barry's lungs not all right, but they were deteriorating. Without transplanting new lungs, his would eventually collapse, and he would die. I didn't want to even think of that as a possibility; having grown up with him, I couldn't see a world without him.

Luckily, the transplant was something that could be arranged. Unluckily, the world decided that I would need to pay my dues as Champion, and I was pulled away from my home world to the business world. I couldn't escape it, however hard I tried. I had duties I needed to attend to as Champion.

While I was away, I had my mom and Palmer send me updates on Barry's condition. The transplant was a success, though the doctors had to observe him to make sure that his body didn't reject the new organs. Every second I was away, I worried. I almost wanted to go find a Blissey and get another one of those eggs.

And then, in the middle of one of my endless conferences almost a year after I left, I got a message from Barry: _Come home now._

* * *

><p>After nearly having a heart attack from Barry's vague message, I returned home to find Barry had returned home with a functional pair of lungs. The doctors told him that once they gave him the okay, he would be able to return to an almost-normal life. And that okay didn't come a moment too soon. Barry couldn't sit still much longer.<p>

"How does it feel?" I asked, knocking on his door and letting myself into his room. He was at his desk, swallowing a handful of large pills; rejection and infection would be a constant threat for the remainder of his life. His movement was still limited, as well. He hadn't tried doing much of anything since he returned home, which was strange. He was usually the first to try to test the limits. "You have someone else's lungs inside you."

"Don't remind me. I might throw up," Barry responded, shooting me a dark look. But then he smiled, walking close to me and wrapping his hands around my waist. "It's been awhile, hasn't it? I don't like waiting." I giggled as he kissed me, holding my body against his.

"I have an idea." I pushed myself away from him. He raised an eyebrow, and I smiled. "I'll race you to the finish line," I offered, and Barry frowned. Illness took all sorts of things, but I found that confidence was the first thing to go for my best friend. "Come on, Barry. Do you want to race me one more time? You have to test out those new lungs sooner or later. Prove to me that you're still faster."

"Well, Dawn, I don't know… I don't know what these lungs can handle," Barry muttered, dropping his hands from my hips.

"Aren't you the one who always wants to test the limits of everything?" I asked, and Barry shrugged. "Listen, I'm not going to make you do anything you're uncomfortable doing. But… it's been almost a year since your transplant. You're self-conscious and scared—that's not you. You need to get back out there. Just one last race."

He agreed. I would keep a sharp eye on him, making sure that he didn't strain himself—although I knew that he would be very cautious. This race wouldn't be so much a race as a test of confidence. Barry needed that, and it was the only reason I suggested it. I knew the risk, but I would never let Barry go again.

We set up our original route from one end of Twinleaf to the other. Standing at the starting line, Barry looked at me, very clearly unsure about this. But I nodded, and he smiled weakly. And that smile, pathetic though it was, told me that he could do this.

"Three…" I began.

"Two…" Barry said.

"One…"

"Go!"

We took off. Barry jogged, falling behind me within the first couple of seconds. I didn't slow down for him; I kept running and running and running—because, if the roles had really switched, he would catch up. I looked back every now and again to make sure he was still with me—and there he was, his legs flying.

And he won. He got to the finish line first.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> My third and final Valentine's Day request from Heystopstaring. This one is a Dawn/Barry fanfic. I must admit, when I first began planning this, I intended for it to be happy-go-lucky, very fun… But then I decided to take a more angsty route in the middle. So, sorry if you completely hate this. And you can be honest, haha. If you really hate it, I'll write a new one for you, LOL.

I don't know anyone who has ever had a lung transplant, and they're very rare among people Barry's age. I couldn't find much about exercise afterwards, so take this with a grain of salt.


End file.
